Rooftops
by Raining-skye23
Summary: A short story on Primrose and Therion's interaction.


Rooftops are his favorite place to chill, especially at night. It gets chilly, but that just keeps him alert. Noisy conversations and bantering filled the air below him. Sometimes, if he chooses to, he will let those chatters reach his ears. _Did you know the baker's daughter had been learning swordmaking from that long nose traveller? The baker from across the streets, yes that one! Her father will be so disappointed when he finds out…_ meaningless conversations, he concluded, people just love to gossip about others.

He just came back from his journey to the wisperwoods. Running low on money, the team needed to take on odd jobs, and one of them was escorting an old lady back to her village. Ophelia immediately volunteered to do that, while he very reluctantly roused from his nap to follow, after multiple coaxing from Tressa. They were able to complete the job relatively quickly, no thanks to the huntress, who's got all the forests in the world in the palm of her hands. Not wanting to return to his tiny room after they came back to town, he made himself comfortable on the rooftop of their inn ever since. Just like other nights, tonight has been cool but peaceful. He tugs his purple scarf up and is just about to lie back down against the hard red tiles, when more familiar voices floated to his ears.

"Ophelia, you know I love you, but I just can't…"

"You've never even tried opening your heart, how will you know?"

There was a sigh, before the tired voice sounded again, this time with exasperation. "Every night since my father was murdered, every single time I felt vulnerable, every single time when I was alone, and sad and believed it to be the last night I'd live, I prayed. I prayed countless times over the years, Ophelia, and you know what happened?"

Unable to control himself, Therion shifted a little closer to the edge, just to eavesdrop a little more clearly.

"Nothing. Nothing happened." He could almost taste the bitter disappointment dripping in her voice. "I learnt to pick myself up over the years; to protect myself, because no one will. Before I met you, I gave up on the idea of a higher being watching over me. But perhaps, your Lord really does exist, and he helps tons of people through you, Ophelia. I'm happy for you, really I am. You deserve it. But please, don't ask me to open my heart again. I've already accepted that I'm forgotten. Don't make me go through that again."

There is a long silence, before Ophelia spoke. "I'm really sorry, Prim. I never think, I…"

"Don't fret over it. I'm fine, I…" A gust of wind blew against him, sweeping his scarf up as it passed. Quickly, he reached for it before it got swept away. "…I just need a minute. Catch you later?"

"…Sure. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow then. Goodnight."

Backing up a little, Therion stares at the night sky. There are no stars tonight, but not like he cared. Truth to be told, Ophelia had raised the same topic with him a few nights ago as well, albeit timidly and withdrawn immediately when he declared he didn't need any Lord in his life. He didn't get the opportunity to explain himself (not that he would even if she asked), but his reason was similar to Primrose's. Their travelling partners often commented that they resembled each other, and although they couldn't (or wouldn't) pinpoint where exactly Primrose was similar to him, he knew deep down that it was their scars and broken trust. They were both orphaned at a young age, forced into socially unacceptable professions and recently discovered the betrayals that landed upon their lives. He has since recovered from the shocking truth, despite the scab in his heart that will always serve as a reminder for trusting too much. What about Primrose? She appeared okay in front of the rest, laughing and making jokes only a few days after she avenged her father, but he could see that its all a farce. She's the best at pretending to be what she is not.

"You know, its wrong to eavesdrop on other people's conversations." A warmer body plunged itself right next to him, the heat instantly warming the left side of his body. "I bet you're wondering how I knew." He can feel her gaze on his face, but he makes no move to acknowledge her. "Well, I could smell you from below."

That caught his attention. "Excuse me?" He resisted the urge to bury his nose into his scarf. Does he smell that bad? Sure, he hasn't bothered to bathe since he came back, but still…

"Sorry, I don't mean it that way." She wraps her arms around her knees, very gently rocking while she explains. "Its just, I've always had a keen sense of smell, and the strong wind just now, I smelt something in the air and I knew immediately it's you."

"You know my smell?"

"Okay, now you're just making it weird," she pouted, making her cheeks rounder. He finds it adorable when she does that. It makes her look like an apple, especially in this weather, where the cool air heats up skin fairly easily.

Leaning back on his elbow, he finally regarded her. She is wrapped in a thick blanket scarf, but he can still see the dancer garb beneath it. Sometimes, he wonders why she insists on wearing that wherever they go. It was obviously impractical more than half the time, and she always looks cold, no matter how much she tries to hide it. Of course, the thin and flimsy attire does everything to accentuate her perfect body, and Therion is not one to complain. Despite his reluctance to express any emotions other than annoyance most of the time, he is still very, very male. The attractiveness of his female companion is not lost to him, or if he dares say so, not lost to any male in their group. Of course, the rest are too polite to make any moves on her, and they soon become accustomed to her way of dressing, and that's that. He, however, refrained from following his instincts because he felt protective of her, for some reason. Back since the first day she joined their group, where they were only three people big, he felt a strong urge to protect the younger woman. He saw something in her eyes, the same desperate look that he donned when he was her age. She might appear friendly and cheerful in front of others, but he knew she was a master of acting. Although he did not treat her any differently from the rest during their time together, he made an effort to be part of every expedition that she volunteered, just so he could keep an eye out for her. He's not sure why he's behaving this way either, but decided against thinking too much about it. He has no desire to change their dynamics, besides the occasional flirting; it will just make their journey together more complicated.

"So," he asks casually, "how do I smell?" He inwardly smirked at the blossoming redness of her cheeks.

"Oh shut up" she huffs. He waits, knowing she will feel conscious of their silence and speak again. And she does. "If you must know, it smells like the woods after a rain, like that brief moment where you wake up in the middle of the night, realizing the thunderstorms outside, but you bury yourself deep in your blankets and drift off again, because you know you are safe…" She seems to realize that she spoke too much. He realizes that too, because Primrose rarely says anything that breaches the surface of her façade. "…Anyway, you smell like you. That's what I mean." She quickly ends her sentence and made to stand up.

He knows she's running away again. She always runs away when she's trying to avoid something. That's something that he catches himself doing too, and he doesn't blame her. Running away definitely allows him to remain detached, to keep himself safe when things become too much. But at the same time, he knows too, that it makes him unapproachable and lonely, for no one can get to him before he leaves them first. He knows all too well, but for some reason, he doesn't want to see Primrose this way. He doesn't want her to become like him. Without thinking, he grabs her arm before she could lift herself off. "Hey, its okay."

She stares at him, surprise donning her features. Perhaps its because he rarely initiates any physical contact with anyone. She often teases him about that as well, purposely pushing him to the nearest tavern girl to _have some fun_ while they were in Sunshade, or throwing an arm around his neck just to irritate him when she's tipsy from the beer. Little does she know, he hates physical contact, and that rule applies to anyone but her. She seems completely unaware of how her touch affects him, and he doesn't know why her touch, only her, affects him so. "Why are you so afraid?" He lets the tingling sensation pass as he keeps his fingers wrapped around her tiny wrist, choosing to ignore the feelings that ignited in him for now.

She looks into his eyes, unsure if he's actually waiting for her response. When he doesn't speak, she sighs and breaks contact. "You of all people should know. Why are you asking me that?"

He doesn't know how to reply. Not without saying too much.

"Therion…" Her left hand tightens around her scarf, her face scrunching up as if she's struggling with something. "I…I know you're looking out for me. You've been looking out for me since the start. Don't narrow your eyes at me, I'm not blind you know. Why else would I always see you beside me, ready to cover my blind spots whenever we fight evil? Why else would you give me your last healing grape when we both know you needed it more than me?" She moves closer to him, unaware of how uncomfortable he feels at this moment, to know that _she knows_. "I know you're not like the rest, you prefer to keep to yourself, and I've never called you out for it. I've always been grateful for your concern, Therion. So please, let me be. I thought you understand why I am who I am."

She tries to pull her hand away again. This time, he lets her go. "I do understand, that's why I don't want you to make the same mistakes as me." He speaks so quietly he's not sure if she heard him. "You can be yourself when you're with me."

For a few minutes, none of them spoke. He wonders if he spoke too much. Perhaps she's not used to him speaking his mind. After all, he's rarely so communicative when they travel together. Suddenly, she breaks the silence. "You know, everyone keeps saying how similar we are…maybe in another life we are actually siblings, that's why you're so concerned haha"

He can tell from her tone that she's slightly jesting at him, trying to lighten the mood. "That's not it…" He mumbles, feeling a surge of repulsiveness at her use of "sibling". Did she think that he treats her like his younger sister? He doesn't know how he feel, but one definitely does not dream about their sister the way he dreamt about her many nights since they met. But how does he feel?

Her voice, now slightly shaky, breaks his thoughts. She must be cold, he surmises. That blanket thing definitely does nothing against the cold night breeze.

"Thank you. You're right, you know. I've been thinking about it for some time as well. Everyone has been nothing but true to me, yet I constantly try to hide myself from them. I don't want to, but it has become a habit over the years. When you have nobody, you have to be strong for yourself, right? I'm trying, Therion. I'm trying to put everything behind me, but it's going to take some time." She stands up, her hair curling against her face, thanks to the wind. He stares wordlessly at her beauty in that instant, eyes watery but resistant, her lips tightened into a determined line. She may be a tavern dancer, mature and experienced in ways beyond the other girls, but at times like this, she looks like a little girl, unsure of the world. "So thank you for today. Goodnight."


End file.
